


Interred in his Bones

by juliiawrites



Series: Interred in his Bones [1]
Category: Hobbs & Shaw (2019), deckard shaw - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NSFW, Romance, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, deckard shaw - Freeform, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliiawrites/pseuds/juliiawrites
Summary: Deckard Shaw was a proper gentleman and helped you through a rough patch you were stuck in for a long time. Throughout that period, you had been developing feelings for him and him for you, but you were afraid to move too fast because of past experiences. One night, you both divulge your feelings for each other clearly, which eventually leaves Shaw afraid that you would get hurt because of his line of work and you afraid to be left alone again. Those fears, though, seem to be warranted from both sides.
Relationships: Deckard Shaw/Reader
Series: Interred in his Bones [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058774
Kudos: 11





	1. A Proper Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> An NSFW chapter.

You were sitting in your little old chair, looking out the window, a copy of your favorite book lying open on your lap while you watched the world go by beneath you. You couldn’t help but lose focus lately; you spent most of your time alone, not to any fault of your own, but only to let your wounds both physical and emotional heal. Still, the weight of your own presence was too much and not enough usually at the same time. This was one of those moments. Boredom was a habit now, and staring at the world go on without you the only remedy you could muster.  
The front door clicked open and that usual fear sparked through your spine. Carefully, you closed your eyes and swallowed, keeping your body tucked beneath you, balancing your book steadily, breath low and slow.  
The keys fell to the counter with a little jingle and you heard a coat fall down right after that. A low groan, the sound of hands scraping against a five o’clock shadow. Must have been a stressful day. Regardless, you stayed still in your spot, careful to keep quiet and to yourself.  
A hand touched your shoulder and you jumped, eyes wide and inner peace shattered. You smelled his cologne, rather overbearing and warm. Your book, overused and worn, tumbled to the ground and you caught your breath in your throat.  
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright, it’s me,” he said, bending down to pick up the book and place it on the table beside you. “You alright, love?”  
You let out a heavy breath, your shoulders sinking as you felt your heart rate calm.  
“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head, “I don’t know why I got so scared.”  
He knelt in front of you, just off to the side of your legs where he had picked up your book. He studied your face, a rough calloused hand carefully resting on your knee.  
“That’s alright, love,” he said, “it’s just me here. Me and you.”  
You felt a smile press into your cheeks.  
“There it is,” he said, his grin matching yours and then some, “you know I love to see that smile.”  
You laughed, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, Deck. Don’t be stupid.”  
He was still smiling, hardly reacting to your gentle swat. “It’s what I do best, eh?”  
He watched you for a moment, eyes tracing the lines in your skin that formed from your smile and laughter, wandering over the edge of your lips, your wrinkled nose, your squinted eyes. Butterflies danced in your stomach and you felt like a little girl again.  
“What are you reading today?” He asked after a moment of comfortable silence. It was easy to be silent with Deck, and much better than being silent alone.  
You glanced over at the ratty old book you brought with you everywhere. “The same, still.”  
“How many times is that now?” He asked, flipping it over in the palm of his hand to see the cover, faded and ripped. “Shakespeare. You never get bored of this guy?”  
You laughed. “I’ve lost count. And no, I don’t. I read Caesar for the first time in high school. This is the copy my teacher gave me. When things get hard, I read it. Actually, parts of it remind me of you.”  
He placed the book back down and carefully rubbed his thumb in circles just over your knee, still kneeling in front of you.  
“Ah, which part of it would that be? I’m a bit rusty on my Shakespeare if I do say so myself.”  
You looked past him and to the starry sky. “The good is oft interred in their bones,” you said, leaving out the first half to keep the mood sweet and light. Deck struggled with the bad he had done in the past; there was no need to bring it up in a moment like this.  
“You saying I’ve got good bones?” He smirked.  
You laughed again. “Don’t play dumb, Deck. It means that the good you do is apart of you. It’s buried within you. People may forget it, but it stays with you.”  
He fell quiet again, his eyes caught in yours and the way the stars reflected and danced in them. Red lights flashed over your skin as cars sped by on the highways below, and Deck felt that the good in his bones was only there because of you.  
“What?” You asked, blushing as he stared.  
He reached for your hand and pulled it to his lips, closing his eyes and he placed a long kiss to your knuckles.  
“You’ve got good bones,” he said, opening his eyes and finding yours again. “Your bones are much better than mine.”  
“Deck,” you rolled your eyes, leaning towards him, “that’s not what it means.”  
He smiled again, and after another brief second of silence, he leaned forward and swept you up in his arms, laughing as you gasped at the sudden movement.  
“Come again, I might have better bones than you. I’d like to see you carry me around like this. It might be fun.”  
You let your arms fall around his neck, noses almost touching as he carried you away from the window and into the dark room you had recently begun to share. It was a slowly developing relationship for a lot of reasons. When Deck had offered you his spare bedroom, insisting that he’d barely be around to bother you, you were in bad shape. If hadn’t helped you out of that situation, you weren’t sure where’d you be now. You started to fall asleep beside him by accident, but waking up with his deep breaths just beside you was comforting and safe. You started to sleep in his bed when you missed him, when he was gone, though sometimes he’d come back in the dead of night and find you there, curled up in his pillows, and would sleep like a wall next to you. After those few times, you’d have nightmares and wake up in a panic. If he was home, he’d run into your room fresh from bed, usually with no shirt on if you weren’t with him, ready to fight somebody like he always was. It was easy then just to let him take you back to his room, pull his blanket up over your shoulders, and fall asleep against his chest. The last two months or so, you’d just decided to sleep with him every night. You never really talked about it, but he was kind and an overall gentleman.  
He placed you down on the far side of the bed and lingered just inches from your face for a few seconds before pulling away and turning to his wardrobe.  
“How was your day?” You asked, sitting yourself up and crossing your legs. You felt small in his presence, and most of the time that was a good thing.  
He pulled his tie loose and dropped it into the laundry basket and began to unbutton his shirt, facing away from you.  
“It was work, I suppose. Maybe not as intense as some days go.”  
You let yourself rest back against the pillows, eyes wandering to the ceiling. “Well I supposes that’s pretty good, considering.”  
He chuckled. “I suppose you’re right about that then. I’m going to take a quick shower, don’t fight too hard to stay up.”  
You smiled to yourself as you heard him walk to the bathroom, door closing all but an inch after him. You weren’t sure what kind of relationship you had with him, or what he thought of it. Were there feelings? Absolutely, you knew you had feelings for him, but didn’t know if you wanted to truly act on them after everything that had lead to this. Was it exclusive? You assumed he wouldn’t offer you his house or bed if he was planning on bringing other women along. You heard the water click on and rolled over to your side, back to the door.  
Deck showered quickly. He was eager to lay with you, maybe hold you a little bit closer as he did night by night. He found himself dreading the long trips away for work more and more, since those were the times he knew you’d be sleeping alone. He hated to imagine you waking from a nightmare all alone in the dark, in his bed, and the thought had kept him up some nights. Worse than that, though, was that somebody would come for you when he wasn’t there.  
He turned the water off and dried himself quickly. He slid into his old night shirt and boxers, hanging the towel on the hook by the door before he walked back into the bedroom and found you laying with your back to him in the bed.  
“Did you go and fall asleep already?” He asked quietly, lowering himself into bed and inching over to you.  
“I’m awake,” you said, nudging closer to him.  
“So tell me,” he said, watching you carefully turn towards him, fingers carefully tracing your arm, “do you think you’d like to keep staying here?”  
The question threw you off, and for a moment you assumed he was asking if you planned to leave soon. You blinked at him, unsure of yourself.  
“Well I- I don’t know. I guess I haven’t thought about it much yet…”  
He smirked, reaching his hand up from your arm to brush a hair out of your face, the tips of his fingers lingering on your cheek. “I… Well, I was only asking because I’d like to say that… I don’t mind if you’d like to stay. However long you need, or even if… Even if you stay a little longer after that.”  
You felt your cheeks flush with warmth and focused on his smile.  
“I’ve gotten used to you being in my bed,” he said, carefully bringing his fingers back to your cheeks, gently caressing the side of your face.  
“I could stay a bit longer,” you said, feeling the butterflies rage inside of you. You let yourself find his eyes. “I’ve gotten used to being in your bed.”  
He smiled, his face hovering just inches away from yours. After a moment he let his hand fall just to the base of your jaw, fingers resting against your neck and thumb flat beneath your ear. You couldn’t help but look to his lips, just barely parted, so close to your own. Your heart was full.  
“Do you think,” he started, voice just a whisper now. “Do you think it would be alright if I were to kiss you?”  
You blinked a few times, replaying the words in your mind. You instinctively twitched towards him, and his eyes flashed between your eyes and your lips. Slowly, he leaned towards you, his breath warm on your skin. You let your eyes close, and a second later his lips were pressed to yours, warm and sharp with stubble around them, thought you didn’t mind. He was gentle, his hand tightening on your neck only slightly. He held the kiss there for a long moment, and you let the feeling of the sparks flying wash over you. It had been a long time since you felt that feeling, and you sunk into it easily and happily.  
He pulled away only slightly, his lips parted and still touching yours. His eyes, half closed, wandered around your face.  
“Y/n,” he said, moving his hand to your hair, tucking it behind your ear over and over.  
“Deck,” you said, bringing your chin forward to let your lips touch again for a split second, your eyes closed and heavy.  
He pressed his lips to yours again, a little bit less gently, and supported your head with his hand against you. You felt a warmth building up in your stomach, and kissed him back with a gentle hunger. Everything was soft and careful, especially from him, as though you might completely shatter if he moved the wrong way. You were fairly certain you wouldn’t, but in that moment you didn’t mind being treated that way.  
He let his hand fall from your cheek and rest on the mattress beside your head, holding him up as he slowly came over you, lips still pressed to yours. Your hands found the back of his head and his neck, fingers shaking slightly as the urge to have him against you grew stronger. You trusted him with your life, but this was somehow more than that- to trust him with your love seemed so much more terrifying and real. But you wanted to. And you were starting to.  
He adjusted himself over you, swinging one leg in between yours to hold himself up without pulling his lips away from your own. It was like a dance, you thought: without thinking, just following the rhythm set in place, you moved together and breathed together. You lifted one leg up so it was bent at the knee, spreading it slightly from the other so he knew it was okay.  
He pulled his lips from yours but didn’t hesitate in finding your jaw and tracing it with kisses. He took his time with your neck, breathing against it and kissing it slowly and methodically. His chest drew in heavier breaths right above your own, and the sensation of his lips on your skin made your breath shake. He responded to it, slowing down even more and dragging his lips lower, nearly to your collar bones, and around to the other side. He sighed against your skin, and you could feel his erection growing in the small space between you.  
“Are you alright?” He asked, lips still against your skin.  
“Yes,” you said, breathless.  
“You’ll tell me if you need to stop?” He asked, planting a kiss on that sweet spot right below your ear.  
You nodded, “yes.”  
He pressed another stronger kiss to your neck, the muscles in his shoulders tensing as he held himself above you. You stifled a moan, biting your lip as he kissed back down to your chest, breathing against your skin, worshipping the softness and scent. He brought one hand down from its spot beside your head and brushed some hair off of your shoulders before carefully dragging it down to your waist, where he held you up against him. He kissed your chest, between your breasts, still fully clothed. Your chest rose heavily as he did, responding to every little touch or movement.  
He sat up on his knees for a second, legs intertwined with yours, and pulled his shirt up over his head and let it fall to the ground next to the bed. You tried to take him in with he second you had, his strong frame, heavy chest coursing with sparse breaths. He lowered himself to you without much time to admire him, and pressed more kisses to your chest, both of hands now around your waist. He slid one hand under your shirt, the feeling of his hand against your bare skin sending chills throughout your body. He pulled you up slightly, kissing your neck as he tugged your shirt up your back and pulled it over your head. You felt a rush of fear wash over you, but the moment he pressed a kiss to your exposed stomach, that fear melted into pleasure and you fought the urge to writhe underneath him. He returned to your lips, reaching a hand behind your back to the clasp of your bra, squeezing it between two fingers until it felt loose. He pulled it off, eyes closed as he kissed you and let it fall the the floor with the other clothes. You were cold suddenly, and more nervous now that you were exposed. Your grip on him tightened and he felt you tense beneath him.  
“Do you want to stop now?” He asked.  
“No,” you said quickly, pressing another kiss to his lips, “keep going.”  
He kissed you back, sliding a hand up your waist and to your breast, cupping it in his hand as he kissed you. You felt his breath catch in his throat, and yours did the same not long after. He moved his hand from one to the other, massaging your exposed chest. He squeezed a nipple between his pointer and middle finger, not enough to cause pain, and a subtle moan escaped your lips and was muffled against his. You felt his erection grow harder against your leg, and a sense of pride came over you.  
He lowered his head to your chest again, one hand supporting himself while the other explored your skin. His lips eventually found your nipples and he sucked on them, your back arching against his soft touch. With his free hand, he cupped your other breast and let a heavy breath escape from his mouth and warm your skin. His tongue slipped from between his lips and traced circles around your nipple, lowering his supporting arm to rest on his elbow, your body pressed close against his face. You let your eyes stay closed while your head wandered towards the ceiling, pressing your body into his. He moved from one nipple to the other, losing his grace as he felt the heat from your body against his.  
He let his hand wander just under the elastic of your shorts, and he glanced up at you.  
“Is this alright?”  
“Yes.”  
He pulled them down and you helped him push them from your ankles. You were almost completely exposed before him, all except for a little bit of cloth. He kissed from your breasts down past your belly button, hovering just at the edge of your underwear, fingers tracing the lacy edge.  
He tugged them down, his breath hard and warm against your exposed skin. They fell to the ground at the foot of the bed, and you felt that familiar ping of anxiety in your chest. You let your eyes wander to him, watching his gaze fall over your body. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.  
“You are magnificent,” he said, both hands on your waist again. He pressed a kiss to your navel, and took one hand from your waist and caressed the bottom of your raised thigh. He kissed your inner thighs and carefully coaxed them apart, his hand rising from your leg. His fingers traced your lips before settling on your clit, gently rubbing it as you arched against his, your breath stuck in your chest. He kissed your thigh, eyes exploring and studying you. He lowered his fingers to find your opening, swirling them around slowly while he lowered his lips to your clit. He circled it with your tongue, fingers deftly exploring your inside as you moaned and instinctively squeezed your thighs closed. With his other hand, he pushed them back open, and let his fingers wander up to your breasts to play with your nipples as he continued eating you out. You twitched against him, biting your lip to suppress your cries.  
He slowly let his fingers go deeper and deeper inside of you, his movements methodical and planned. He moved with the flow of your body rocking against his mouth, and you focused all of your energy on getting lost in the moment.  
He pulled his fingers out, gripping your thighs as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit and dragged it up and then down, pushing into your opening just slightly. He slowly pulled it out and pulled away, his lips shiny as he bent to kiss your stomach.  
“Are you okay?” He asked again, hovering beside your ear and nibbling on it.  
“I’m okay,” you said, body shaking and numb, begging for more.  
“Do you want to keep going?” He asked.  
“I do,” you said, pressing your hands to his cheeks and kissing him.  
You lowered one hand as you kissed him and touched his erection through his boxers. He groaned against your lips, the sound deep and guttural, almost animalistic. You ran your fingers along the waist line of his boxers and snuck in, tracing his member with the tips of your fingers as you built up to wrapping your hand around him. He shook against you, and you could tell that he was holding back so he wouldn’t scare or hurt you. It made you feel safer, looked after, cared for- all things that were consistent with him.  
Before long he pulled your hand up and tugged down his boxers, exposing himself to you as he balanced himself and kicked them off, both of you exposed all the same now. He pulled one of your legs up to his waist and lowered himself against you, pressing on you, his lips playing with yours. He pulled your lower lip between his teeth and held it there for a second, grunting as he felt you against him.  
He positioned himself outside of you and propped himself up, searching your face as you searched his. He locked his eyes with yours as he pushed into you, taking you in as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. His muscles pressed against you as he held himself in, head beginning to fall as his lips parted and a moan escaped from his mouth.  
“Let me,” you said, watching him as he shook with need. In one fell swoop he wrapped his arms around you and flipped you over, now sitting onto of him still inside of you. You were hunched over, forehead pressed against his. His hands found your ass and, almost desperately, he tried to guide you up and down. You straightened yourself up and put his hands on your waist while you started to ride him. His eyes shut and his head pressed back into the pillow, hands squeezing and pulling at your skin. The veins in his neck popped and you could tell he was trying hard to stay in control of himself. You guided his hands to your breasts, riding him as he played with your nipples. So many sensation started to overcome you, and you felt the heat of the moment begin to become unbearable. All of a sudden, he grabbed you by the wrists, squeezing tight, his eyes opened and focused on yours. His jaw clenched, and he bucked into you, forcing you to grind against him and ride harder, faster. You moaned, feeling yourself collapse without the support of your arms. He pushed you back, still holding your wrists, supporting your weight.  
After another second he lifted you off of him and turned you to your back again, this time not hesitating to press his lips into yours hard and fast. He pushed inside of you, over and over again, both of you moaning into each others mouths. His hands struggled to find a place on your body they were content with, so he touched you everywhere.  
Soon he was becoming more erratic, and you felt yourself begin to get warmer and pulse with pleasure. You matched his pace, crying out as his hands found your face and held you, kissing you hard and deep. You lifted both of your legs up to his back, trying to get him as deep as he could go. He pushed into you over and over again, faster and faster, until you couldn’t take it anymore.  
“Deck!” You cried, your body twitching and spasm beneath him. You continued to cry out as he began to pound into you, his breathing critically uneven and shallow.  
“Ugh,” he moaned, slamming into you and holding himself there before pulling out and doing it again, and again, and again until your body fell limp underneath him and sweat was dripping from his forehead and chest.  
His head fell against yours, and he let himself rest on top of you, pulling out slowly as the moment began to pass.  
He rolled onto his back, looking over at you laying with your eyes closed and aimed at the ceiling. He studied you, still catching his breath, taking in your body before sitting up and pulling his sheets over you to keep you warm. Your eyes opened a sliver.  
“Sh,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “it’s time to go to sleep. It’s alright, love.”  
You listened and let your heavy eyelids fall shut. He wrapped you in his blankets and tucked himself in next to you, wrapping his strong arms around you and resting his lips against the top of your head. After a few minutes, you both fell asleep, locked against each other under the mess of sheets and blankets, skin to skin.


	2. Day Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after your night with Deckard, he gets called away on a simple mission with Hobbs. He's frustrated that he has to leave, and you're a bit more anxious about it than normal, but he promises to call a few times and check in. You're not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

Deck held you against him the rest of the night, hardly sleeping as he watched and listened to you breathe. He was never really afraid of anything, but he was afraid of scaring you away or hurting you. He decided you had been hurt enough for one lifetime, and he’d be damned if he’d do anything to add to that. So all night he barely slept, consumed with the thought that you would regret what had happened between you two or that he did something wrong. He just stroked your hair and held you, grateful at the very least to have you in his arms, to know exactly where you were in that moment.  
When you woke up in the morning you were still wrapped up in his sheets, yawning and rolling over in his direction while your mind caught up to you. A surge of warmth tangled around your heart as you remembered the night before, his gentle touch and kiss. You peeled your eyes open, searing the bed for him, only to realize you were alone in the sheets, the room quiet and cold.  
You sat up, anxiety washing over you while you looked around, holding the sheets up over your chest. The place was quiet, your clothes from last night still strewn about, Deckard’s shoes still in front of his wardrobe.  
You pulled yourself out of the bed, dragging the sheet with you and wrapping it around your body, arms bundled over your chest. Barefoot, cold, and nervous, you wandered out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, looking for Deck, fearing that he had gotten what he wanted and decided that was enough, he was bored of it, he was done.  
You turned the corner into the kitchen and saw him standing there in his underwear, flipping some eggs around on a pan. He looked up as you walked in, smile growing across his cheeks.  
“Good morning, love,” he said, voice gravelly and tired.  
You let out a deep sigh and shook your head. “I thought-“ you started, embarrassed.  
He slid the eggs onto a plate and wiped off his hands, walking over to you, concerned. “Thought what?”  
You pressed your lips together and tried to laugh it off. “I didn’t know where you were. I thought maybe you’d left.”  
He reached a hand over to the side of your face and smiled. “You’re in my house, love. Where would I go?”  
Your cheeks grew red and you looked down, almost ashamed.  
“It’s alright,” he said, lifting your chin with his fingers, “I’m here. You don’t need to be afraid.”  
He pressed a warm kiss to your forehead and you smiled.  
“Come on then, I made us some breakfast.”  
You followed him over to the kitchen where there were two full plates of eggs ready and waiting. He picked them up and placed them on the table, which had a view overlooking the city.  
“Are you working today?” You asked, adjusting your sheets so you could eat.  
He watched your movements, taking in every stretch and pull, the way your lips formed around the words.  
“Not that I know of,” he said, swallowing some eggs. “But that could always change. I’m never really off, am I?”  
You shrugged. “Sometimes I miss working.”  
He paused, thinking back to the times he had run into you in the field. “Do you think you’re ready to go back?”  
You wanted to burst out laughing. “No,” you said, pushing the thought from your mind, “I don’t think I could ever go back. Not after- I don’t think I could.”  
He was quiet again, watching you in that way he had.  
“Maybe I’ll work in a coffee shop,” you said, glancing out the window, “I’d say a bartender, but we both know I’d get pulled right back into some shit show with that one. Coffee is harmless.”  
He smirked. “You? Working at a Starbucks on a corner somewhere, little apron, calling out orders for Karen and Jessica?”  
You shrugged. “What’s so wrong with that?”  
He laughed. “Absolutely nothing. In fact, I think I love it.”  
“Good,” you said with a smile, “maybe soon I’ll start looking around.”  
He pushed his plate aside and rested his fork on top of it, studying the skyline and the morning clouds passing by.  
“I’m in dire need of a shower,” he said, stretching slightly, “would you care to join me?”  
You let your fork rest on your plate as well. “I suppose,” you said, a bit nervous.  
“No pressure dear,” he said, standing up and collecting the plates, carrying them to the sink. “You’re welcome to join if you want.”  
He walked off to the bedroom, yawning and stretching as he did. You looked over to the clock and saw that it read 6:30 AM. You shivered a little bit in the sheets. The one annoying thing about Deck was how cold he preferred everything to be. Not just in temperature, but in his furniture- so bleak, so impersonal, so distant. There was definitely more to him than what met the eye.  
You walked to the bedroom, dropping the sheets back onto the bed and shivering, wrapping your arms around yourself. The shower would be warm. There was steam coming out of the bathroom, through the half-opened door. Gingerly, you walked towards it, teeth chattering.  
The heat hit you the second you stepped in. The shower door was fogged up but you could make out his form, eyes squeezed shut under the water.  
You slid the door open and snuck in, closing it gently behind you. Deck turned around and wiped his eyes free of water, smiling down at you, the smell of his soap hovering in the air.  
He turned so you could fit under the flow of the water, eyes stuck on yours, a smile playing on his cheeks. He picked up the bar of soap and began to rub it across your shoulders.  
“Last night…” he stared, watching his hand fall across the curves of your body, “was that alright?”  
You blushed and looked off to the side, overwhelmed with the warmth in your chest. “It was fine,” you said.  
“Oh,” he said, his tone playful, lips closed into a small “o”, “just fine, huh?”  
You laughed, letting your head hang and eyes close as the water ran over you. “You know what I meant.”  
“Do I?” He asked, laughing.  
“It was completely okay, Deck. I’m okay.”  
He was silent and continued to rub his hands along your body.  
“Good,” he said after the pause, “that’s good.”  
You let yourself fall against his chest, and he looked down at you, unsure for a moment on what to do. He was good at the intimate stuff, but just the romance- he wasn’t super well-versed. After a second he put the soap down and let his hands rest on your back, caressing your skin and resting his head on the top of yours.  
“You’re really not as bad as you let people believe,” you said, the words escaping your mouth before you could catch them.  
He drew in a deep breath. “Maybe you’re just special.”  
You looked up at him, water bouncing into your eyes. “It’s in your bones,” you said, smiling. “It’s with you.”  
“My good strong bones,” he said, picking you up and turning so that he could balance you against the wall, “it’s all about my bones, isn’t it?”  
You let your arms hang over his shoulders, his head dropping to rest on your chest. You always expected him to be more aggressive, more forward with his want and need for pleasure. But he was gentle. He seemed to breathe in your body, rather then hunger for it. He always carried himself so tough, so straight-faced even around beautiful women. It was strange to see him like this, listening to your heartbeat while the water washed over him, holding you against him.  
“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” He asked, running his lips across your skin.  
“Were you not being honest before?”  
He smiled and pressed a kiss to your neck. “From the moment you came here, I felt so… So protective of you. Like I’d do anything. And last night, for the first time ever, I was worried to hurt you.”  
“I don’t break that easy,” you said.  
“For months I’ve just wanted to touch your skin. Feel it against my face like this. Hold you, kiss you.”  
He looked up at you and you at him, eyes locking in the moment.  
“And now here you are in my arms and it isn’t close enough.”  
Your heart pulsed. The water was hot against your skin. A lot of thoughts and feelings were rushing through your mind, but you tried to quiet them, to focus on him.  
“I don’t want you to think I’m using you, Y/n.”  
He pressed his lips to yours and you both fought to stay together while breathing over the flow of the water. He lifted you against the wall slightly, grunting as he pressed you down on top of him. His voice vibrated against your chest as he thrusted into you over and over, still gentle, though more rough than last night. You bit down on your lips, letting your head fall back and hit the wall. You dug your fingers into his back, trying to match his pace despite being held in the air against a slippery wall. He slammed a hand next to your head for balance, splashing water onto your face, his breaths uneven and hard.  
Outside of the shower, his phone began to ring. He slowed down, resting his head in your shoulder and groaning.  
“Goddammit,” he said, water spraying from his lips. You cringed a little at the aggression, but he seemed to notice and placed you down, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. “It’s alright love. Let me answer that.”  
He stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel, your body spasming and aching from the loss of his warmth and strength. You let your head go under the running water, drenching your hair and face. It was different from last night. You thought maybe that’s how he usually was; he saw what he wanted and he took it. It wasn’t that you were unhappy with him being so enthralled with you, so needy for your body, but the change of pace set you off. It must’ve been, you thought, the slam of the hand next to your head. It reminded you of times since passed with other people. Other partners, fights, violence; another life.  
“Shaw,” he said into the phone, voice much more serious. He rubbed the towel across his chest.  
You held your eyes shut, your fingers interlocking just behind your neck, hair flat against your scalp and back. You could hear a faint mumble from the other end of the phone, and you hurried to cover your ears with your wet palms. It reminded you of sticking your ear up to conch shell as a child, trying to speak to the ocean.  
“Hobbs, are fucking kidding me, mate?” Shaw said into the phone, glancing back at you closing yourself off in the shower. He lowered his voice. “And how long is this gonna take?”  
“What, got yourself a hot date, Shaw?” Hobbs said on the other end. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”  
“You always sound like a damn clown to me,” Deck said, distracted by how small you were making yourself.  
“I’m gonna be in London in an hour. Meet me at-“  
“Yeah, yeah,” Deck grumbled. “I’ll be there, I’ll be there, alright?”  
“Hey, and listen-“  
“Bye Hobbs,” Desk insisted, clicking off the call and letting his phone fall to the counter. He hurried back over to the shower, reaching in to turn the water off, wrapping his towel around your shoulders.  
“Hey, love. What is it?” He asked, guiding you out and onto the fluffy black rug in the middle of the room.  
You shook your head, eyes still shut. You tried to run through the lines from Caesar in your head.  
Hence! Home, you idle creatures get you home.  
“It’s alright. It’ll be alright, I promise,” Deck lowered himself to try and find your eyes, rubbing his hands up and down your arms through the towels to warm you and dry you off. “Talk to me, please?”  
You let your eyes fall open and shook your head. “I’m sorry, Deck. I-“  
“No need to apologize,” he said. “Did I do something?”  
You shook your head. “No, no, I think… I don’t know. I don’t know.”  
He let you fall into his arms, head curled against his chest. He sighed, chewing on the inside of his mouth, angry that Hobbs had to call and summon him away from you.  
“It’s alright. It’s okay. On the phone, that was Hobbs. It seems I’ve got a job to do today.”  
He felt your body stiffen under the weight of the words.  
“But listen, Hobbs is a jackass who can get it done himself, eh? I’ll-“  
“No,” you said quickly, eyes shooting up, almost startling him. “Don’t do that. Don’t give things up for me.”  
“I’m hardly giving anything up. It’s a one-off job, like all the rest. They don’t need me for the same thing all the damn time.”  
You felt tears bubbling in your eyes. “Please, Deck. I- I-“ You felt your breath getting away from you.  
He rubbed his fingers along your back, still covered in his towel. “Take a deep breath, love. It’s all alright. Just like every other day. You don’t need to worry about me, yeah?”  
You nodded, dropping your head and letting his lips meet your skin.  
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” you said, timid and shy.  
He shook his head, lips still pressed to your forehead. “It’s all fine. Don’t think about it too hard. I’ll be home tonight, and you can tell me all about that book, and maybe we can watch a movie.”  
You knew and he knew that when Hobbs called, it usually meant a few days away at the least. Deck wasn’t much into movies or anything like that, either. He knew you enjoyed them, and he was trying his hardest to talk you off that ledge you were teetering so desperately on.  
“Just be safe,” you said, trying to subtly wipe away a tear. “I’ll be here.”  
He looked down into your eyes before giving you another deep kiss, almost melting you into his arms.  
“I’ll call, how about that? Hobbs has that damn alarm set to call his daughter, you know. I’ll call you and we’ll check up on each other.”  
You nodded. “That sounds fine.”  
He kissed you again and reached for another towel, wrapping it around his waist and checking his phone again. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. All was well. All was fine. Deckard went away on crazy missions all the time, and this was no different. Why should it be? Because you shared a kiss, a bed, your bodies? You felt ridiculous being worried. Not to mention, you knew Hobbs. Between the both of them, what the hell could happen? 

—-

Deck rolled up in front of the CIA building and cracked his neck, parading his typical tough guy exterior. He felt different today than he did yesterday. He was more worried, maybe, about being away from you. He always had a hard time sleeping thinking you were having nightmares without him there when you woke up, but this was different. It sat wrong in his stomach to walk away, especially on a call from Hobbs who was already a stones throw from London for some Godforsaken reason.  
The elevator clicked and Shaw stepped out, greeted by a few men in suits running about their business, flipping through papers and talking into phones.  
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Hobbs said, greeting him with an irritated shrug.  
“Piss off fatty,” Shaw said with a bit of spit flying from his mouth.  
“Ah, so who is she?” Hobbs asked, a smirk teasing his lips.  
Shaw rolled his eyes. “Your mum. I’m in a pissy mood. Got punched in the face yesterday and this morning I get a call from you.”  
Hobbs raised an eyebrow. “I could always give you lessons on how not to get punched in the face.”  
Shaw thought back to you in his apartment, and he felt guilty for lying about his time with you. He was trying to keep you safe, off the grid, and honestly- to himself. He didn’t want to spoil anything with dirty jokes or stories.  
“What’re we here for anyway?”  
“We got another super solider issue,” Hobbs said, unsure of Shaw’s attitude. “You know, our new specialty.”  
“Let’s get it done then, I think I’ve left my water running.”  
“First we’re gonna have to track down this guy, last we got him placed is in Spain,” Hobbs said.  
“Yeah and who’s he?”  
“These guys are using the black market to harvest organs to work on their soldiers. This is the doc they got doing the surgeries.”  
Shaw raised an eyebrow and studied the picture. “Organs, huh?”  
“I’m talking total collection. Hearts, lungs, kidneys, livers. You name it they took it. All of it.”  
“Well let’s go get him then. What’re you waiting for?”  
Hobbs rolled his eyes. “I was waiting for you, jackass.”  
Shaw didn’t respond. He just walked away, his mind wandering back to last night, to the build up of everything over the last few months. He didn’t recognize himself like this: distracted by a woman, by the thought of getting home with enough time to see her before she went to sleep and stay long enough to see her when she woke up. He couldn’t help but smile as he pictured you laying against him, covered in his sheets and blankets, your skin pressed against his, the smell of your hair right under his nose.

—-

You pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them on top of the laundry basket. You were distracted, listening to the water you drew for your bath filling the tub slowly in the bathroom. You picked up the laundry basket and headed to the washer, tossing everything in and pressing start. The sun was shining through the windows, a bit of a glare reflecting off of the dark floor.  
You went to check on the bath, half full with the bubbles starting to rise. You mixed the water with your hand and lowered the temperature a bit.  
“How about a bit of wine?” You said to yourself, wiping your hand off on a clean towel. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of day drinking when you’re all alone, right?”  
You had gotten in the habit of talking to yourself the last few months. You used to be content in total quiet, total peace, but the long days alone had left much to be desired in terms of comfort. You didn’t mind the time off, completely off everyones radar, under the watchful eye of Shaw and his rather high-tech security system. You needed to get away from everyone. The field, the good guys and the bad guys, the fights and bruises and blood and death. You thought that if you’d had the chance to see a therapist, they’d say you had a bit of PTSD from the whole ordeal. You’d agree. You had nightmares about that bastards face and would wake up screaming, trying to get away, trying to kill him, only to keep falling right back into his trap. You’d think for an assassin, you’d be able to keep all those things pushed down and hidden. But fear was a powerful emotion, and you were ready to give it up for good. And if that meant no more running and only hiding, then fine. At least you got to hide in a place like that with a guy like Shaw.  
You gave up being an assassin for warm baths and a glass of wine by noon. And it was fine. What more could you do, really? Deckard gave up being an assassin to be a different kind of assassin. Spent a bit more time in a suit. Maybe- you thought, pouring some wine into a clean glass- maybe one day you could go back, little by little, out in the field, saving the world. It was big maybe. You took a sip of wine and shut the water off, mixing the bubbles one last time. You climbed into the tub, sighing as you sunk into the hot water. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to last night. Was Deck thinking about it too? Did it mean as much to him as it did to you?  
Your phone started to buzz and you looked over, the name reading clear: Deck Shaw. You couldn’t help but laugh a little.  
“Hey,” you said, sipping some more wine, “what’s up?”  
“Twinkle toes is calling his kid,” Shaw said in his grumbly work voice, “thought I’d say hello.”  
“Hello,” you said with a smile.  
On the other end, he couldn’t help but smile back. He stood there silently, facing a wall, head tilted towards the phone in his hand against his ear.  
“Aren’t you busy?” You asked.  
“It’s all the usual,” he said, voice dry, “you know.”  
“Maybe I’ll try making some dinner tonight. Something to look forward to?”  
“I don’t need anything else to look forward to,” he said. “And don’t burn my kitchen down. I need that security deposit back.”  
You laughed. “It’s fine. I’ll just sit around and read. Maybe look for some openings at a coffee shop or two.”  
“Don’t push yourself,” Deck said. You felt the tension in his voice. “Take it easy, alright? No need to rush. I’ll be in touch, alright?”  
You smiled again. “Yeah. Talk to you later, Deck.”  
“See you soon.”  
“Bye, love you,” you said, hanging up before you had the chance to realize what you had said. When you did, you held the phone still over your chest, eyes wide, and you sank slowly into the hot water, face flushed bright red.

—-

Deck held the phone to his ear for a minute after you said it. He didn’t have a chance to respond, let alone did he know what to say. Well, he knew what to say. He wasn’t sure how to say it, or if it was the right time, or-  
“Now I know it’s a woman,” Luke said, a bit of a smile stretching across his cheeks as he leaned against the wall.  
Deck raised an eyebrow and spared him a glance. He brought the phone down from his ear and stuffed it into one of his pockets.  
“Yeah it is,” Luke added with a pleasant nod, “I know that look.”  
“Don’t be daft,” Shaw grumbled, rolling his eyes.  
“All I’m saying is, I can be one excellent wingman.”  
“I don’t need a wingman. Especially- and let me make this clear- not you.”  
“Ouch,” Luke pressed his hand to his chest and cringed, “you’re breaking my heart. Come on. Is it serious? I can’t picture you in a serious relationship. Matter of fact, I can’t picture you in any-“  
“Don’t we have some organs to find?” Shaw asked, stomping passed him.  
“See, this is why I can’t picture it. You’re an expert at proving my point.”  
“Remember when I knocked you out of that window, eh? I’ll do it again. Perfectly good window, right there, waiting to be hulk smashed.”  
Hobbs laughed. “Defensive. So you really like her, huh?”  
“You’re really making me want to punch you, and I always want to punch you, so this is impressive.”  
“Alright, alright,” Hobbs said, “just one last question.”  
“Fine,” Shaw said, turning to him and holding out his hands, eyebrows raised. “What?”  
“Do I know her?” He asked.  
“You mean am I fucking your sister like you’re fucking mine, you absolute twat?” Shaw asked.  
Hobbs laughed. “I don’t-“  
Shaw turned away, shaking his head.  
“Fine. I won’t bring it up again. Unless-“  
Shaw turned abruptly, jaw clenched shut.  
“I said I won’t bring it up.”  
Shaw chewed on his lip, waiting a moment before turning away. He wondered what you were up to, and if you realized what you had said, and if you had meant it. It seemed like an accident, like just a little slip, but- after all those months together, letting things build, and after last night?  
“You gonna be distracted?” Luke asked, his tone more serious now, standing next to Shaw with his hands in his pocket.  
Shaw popped his lips. “I’m never distracted,” he said.  
“Good,” Luke said, “because we’re gonna need you out there. All hands on deck.”  
Deck couldn’t help but laugh. He’d been apart of “the team” for the better part of two years now, but he couldn’t get over their squishy feelings and promises still. Maybe he was too cold. Maybe he didn’t get it, because he had flown solo for long. He wasn’t sure why, but despite the respect he’d developed for all of them, he kind of hated it.


End file.
